Savior
by Mr Selfish
Summary: "Find the flame, save your kind." This was the only guidance Jeigh was given before he journeyed to the unfamiliar land of Lothric. He was ready to face all sorts of challenges during his adventure. But nothing could prepare him for what fate had planned for him. (OC / First Person)
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

I didn't ask for this, but I will admit that my path is a product of choices that I made. Granted, I had very limited options when I was forced to make important decisions in my life, but as a wise man once said: life's not fair.

Of course this was only one of the many thoughts that permeated through my mind as I slowly crept through the darkness. I had been sucked into this black realm by a cup. Yes, a cup. Of all of the crazy things that I had experienced so far this definitely topped the list. Ok, so maybe it wasn't just a cup. I may have previously dived through a catacomb and just so happened upon an elaborate goblet that may or may not have had a skull for a base which was literally oozing a cursed looking smoke. If there were witnesses present they would say that I was unable to resist touching said object as I vocally spoke the word "Touch", but there weren't.

That being said, in the seemingly endless blackness I was guided by an ember that I held in my hand. The fickle spark floated just a hair away from my opened palm. This was my pyromancy flame. They say that our flame isto a pyromancer as a sword is to a knight. It is our weapon, our voice, and a reflection of our heart. My flame was small, but it produced a light like no other. To be honest I'm still not sure what that actually states about me.

I peered into the fire and out into the dark at the same time as I tried to get a better feel for my surroundings. To give my eyes credit, I was able to see that the floor was like ashen earth, both in texture and color. But that didn't tell me much about where I was so I took a long, deep sniff. If there was anything that my old master told me it was that you could tell if a place was dangerous just by its smell. Unfortunately I didn't smell anything either. Both my gut and insight were telling me that I was in danger but I chose to ignore them. I didn't fear death anymore, and I believe that no undead ever should. In fact, ever since my first post-death experience I had begun to crave my end.

I was always seeking the next opportunity to risk my life for some greater purpose. That is, until the flames began to fade. No, not _those_ flames. The power I'm talking about is rumored to be much different from the legacy of Gwyn, the Lord of Light. This power, the fuel for what I hold in my hand, is whispered only among the pyromancers of the Great Swamp. Unfortunately I'm from a small village and was only taught by a wandering old man before being voluntold to join the Way of the White.

As I thought about my holy order I turned my gaze downward once again and dusted some ash off of my breastplate. My leather boots and gloves were strategically brown and they helped me keep the dirt off of my azul quilted pants and tunic. Connected to my blouse was a hood that hid underneath an open faced helmet. Why not close the armet, you ask? Confidence, my friend. I loved to show off my bastard face to the world. Mind of a northerner, skin of an easterner. I was the laughing stock of my village, ranked right next to my loving, whore mother. Maybe the real reason that I was in the Way of the White wasn't because they noticed that I had a gift and abducted me. Maybe I let them take me so that I could escape my forsaken, middle of nowhere village. Perhaps this was the truth as to why I still doned the pure, white cloak of the order.

My thoughts eventually settled and the battle to keep lunch in my stomach and out of my trowsers began. It was basically pitch black and I felt as if I wasn't alone in this realm of eternal night. Logic deemed it necessary for me to will my flame away as to not be seen by any threat that this land had to throw at me. As usual, I begrudgingly agreed with logic. With the disappearance of my ember the darkness quickly closed around me, swallowing me into its all encompassing solitude.

My gut had ceased its internal conflict but with a quick pat of my rear I checked to see if I had lost the war. Today I just so happened to be lucky. No longer feeling as if I was being stalked I was able to further calm myself down both mentally and physically. I had originally come to the catacombs for a reason. "Find the flame, save your kind." Is what they told me, and if I'd learned anything from reading the epics of Black Iron Tarkus and the Knight King Rendal it was that prophecies were always annoyingly vague.

Awkwardly leaning forward, I accepted my ridiculous pose as I tried to use my last available sense to make sure I was safe. You wouldn't believe what I heard. Surprise! Nothing. I wasn't getting anywhere with this, but I sure as hell wasn't going to simply believe that I was safe and sound when I was just sucked into an evil looking cup by who knows what. I took a long, deep breath and tried one last thing.

Pyromancers are renowned for our connection to the natural world. There are stories of masters of the art using profuse sweating techniques to completely ignore dragon fire. Tales also tell of a witch who could control mindless, hollowed undead. With my mind I reached beyond what I could physically sense. I didn't quite expect what happened next. I didn't find anything, but something sure as hell found me.

"Jeigh" whispered a weak voice, followed by a thousand more. "Jeigh. Jeigh. It's him! Jeigh!"

I slowly turned, minding the swaying of my arms. I wouldn't have wanted to hit anything and end up pissing some demon off. When I properly faced the source of the aural anomaly I couldn't believe what I was able to _see_. Something hovered in the dark and visibly attracted me to it. I would have approached it too if it weren't for my inability to move my legs.

Remember when I said that I was always craving my death? I definitely wasn't kidding when I said so, but after adventuring in this strange land for some time I began to ponder if there was a being that could deliver true death to an undead like me. There was always the threat of hollowing, but I've seen undead hollow and then inadvertently consume enough souls to regain just enough of their former humanity to cure themselves. No, I didn't fear losing my mind. I feared true death.

My throat began to dry, butterflies fluttered around in my stomach, and I began to shake. Yes indeed, I was scared. My own superstition got the best of me. Fortunately I didn't need to move towards the big scary black thing because it slowly floated over to me. Good for me, right? I couldn't run if I wanted to and to be honest, I wouldn't have been able to run around for very long in the dark.

Eventually I came face to face with what I figured was a pyromancy flame. It was unlike anything I had ever seen however, as it was half my size and its flames were black. I spent awhile just observing. Its fires danced as it continued to whisper to me.

"Jeigh. Save them! Save us." It beckoned. "Follow your heart!"

Ok, I made that last part up. Look, I was just trying to make myself feel better at the time. Humor always helps relieve unbearable amounts of stress.

Was this what the prophecy was telling me to find? Whatever it was I could definitely sense its power. I also didn't feel any sort of evil emanating from the dark flame, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I felt anything good either. Doubt started to fill my heart, but I gave into my instincts and did the first thing that came into my mind.

"Touch." I bluntly stated, barely summoning enough courage to lift my arm.

My mind was instantly flooded with the voices and they brought their emotions with them. I felt happy, sad, angry, excited and scared all at the same time. Visions of the past flashed before my eyes. A malformed man, alone in the dark. Four crowned beings who looked like evil spirits facing off against a man wielding magic and lightning in his hands. A covenant of vile looking women swearing an oath of doom. And lastly a desperate king praying to the darkness only to be consumed by it.

Pain broke me out of my trance of fear as the flames surrounded my arm and enveloped my body. I threw myself onto the ashen ground and pitifully rolled around to try to extinguish the fire. The anguish worsened as I could feel it burrow into my skin and dig through my innards. This forced me to repeatedly scream in agony.

Nature began to react as I began to shut myself down to block the pain. I remember losing the feeling in my legs first, then my arms. The rest of me soon followed suit I completely lost feeling in the rest of my body. I was familiar with what was happening. I was going into shock. Soon my mind would join my body and simply turn off as the lack of blood flow to my brain suffocated me. Then I would eventually wake up by a bonfire after I died… right?

...Oh you're still here. You want to hear the entire story? Well damn, I guess I'll have to start from the beginning.


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

Prayer. What a magnificent thing it is. Many people at the monastery use it to speak to the gods. I use this time to hog the altar room all to myself so I can sit in silence and read. Sure I believed in the gods, but I didn't want to devote hours every day to performing rituals that I thought were a minor waste of time. That being said, I was never open about my true beliefs. I was always quick to hide the books that I would sneak into the altar room, normally behind the golden statue of Lord Gwyn which was positioned at the very end of the large expanse. People usually didn't walk behind the area because of their superstitious fear that they would enrage the god if they were to get near him. Some may just be intimidated by the statue itself, it was large. Gwyn himself was portrayed with long hair, a magnificent beard, a perfectly aligned face, broad shoulders, an abnormally large greatsword, and the most elegant plated armor. The statue was made to be perfect because Gwyn was believed to be a perfect being.

I sat near the front of the room reading a classic: _The Evil Eye_. It was about a demon that attacked the fabled Astora hundreds of years ago. Whether the tale was true or not was always up for debate, but legends state that the thing's soul was turned into a ring. The plot and conclusion of the book were so ridiculous that I believed every page that I read. Who in their right mind would be able to come up with something like this? I realized that I may have been over analyzing the book and decided that I needed a break. As I stood up and stretched I also took the time to make sure no one else was in the room with me.

I slid the book into my brown robes and sighed as I looked around. Whenever my face wasn't in a book I was always trying to appreciate the monastery itself. The altar room was more of a long hallway with around a dozen rows of wooden benches all facing the statue of Gwyn. It was also lined with candles that maintained just enough light to read. To top it all off the room had a constant scent of burning incense that made it quite relaxing. For someone who liked to stay away from everyone else it was perfect. There were of course some days where I would have to basically avoid the room entirely, but other than those I could freely reserve the room and people would respect my time because I was "praying".

"Brother Jeigh." A voice ambushed me from the entrance doors. I had failed to notice them open. "Are you finished in here yet?"

The source of the voice was a tall, older woman named Sister Petra. She had been my mentor since I arrived ten years ago and practically raised me in the absence of my mother. Petra was perfect because she was a very stern but kind woman, and I really couldn't have asked for a better guardian. Her face and clothes reflected those of a saint's and her attire also measured her time at the monastery. Her white robes were filled with all manners of golden inscriptions that even ran up to her hood which she wore at all times. Her elegant form approached me as I crossed my arms, hoping that she wouldn't see the book underneath my robe.

"I've completed my daily prayer Sister Petra." I calmly mumbled. "I'll be heading to the training room soon."

"Good, but that's not why I'm here." She stated. "The members of the council have been having visions and have decided that you are to leave tomorrow."

This wasn't good. The visions that the council had almost always sent people to their deaths. People simply went on these epic quests because a group of old guys said so. I had a theory that perhaps it was part of some political game, that the council was essentially choosing who leaves and who stays in the monastery. If that were the case then who put my name in the hat? Brother Nesoh? Sister Reparcs perhaps?

I flailed my arms to my sides questionably and started to complain. "It's already noon, I can't be ready by tomorrow. I don't _really_ know anything about the world beyond the monastery! Who's going to protect the monastery while I'm gone? How am I going t-."

Sister Petra delivered a quick and strong slap to my left cheek. Her glacial eyes locked onto mine and I immediately shut up. I knew that if I opened my mouth anymore she would probably kick my ass. No one ever stepped out of line when it came to Petra. Even I took extra precautions to hide my books from her when she was around, though I had a suspicion that she was already aware of the "real me".

"Listen carefully." She instructed. "Find the flame, save your kind. Repeat that to me."

I nodded, even though the instruction was vague and ridiculous. "Find the flame... save your kind."

She put her hand on my shoulder and her tone soothed. "I have faith in you Jeigh. You were named commander of the guard for good reason. You're a prodigal pyromancer who has his head screwed on right."

Damn, she got me. Petra was always able to break you down and build you up in a matter of seconds. She knew exactly how and where to strike to give someone a wake-up call followed by an explosion of self confidence.

I sighed. "Alright, I'll do it just for you Petra."

She let out a humorous huff. "If I were you I would journey south to Irithyll, of the Boreal Valley. You're more likely to find more information in a large city than in your silly books."

"Hah!" I guffawed. "I'll have you know that those books have taught me a magnificent array of skills ranging from Estus soup preparation to all known history of when the Age of Fire was in it's prime."

She waved me off with the back of her hand as she turned around and walked away. "Whatever. While you're down there get yourself a girlfriend you loaner."

I gasped sarcastically. "But Sister Petra, I wouldn't want to break my holy vows!"

"Hah!" it was her turn to laugh. "We both know what you do when you're alone in your quarters in the middle of the night. You've already sullied those vows, boy."

We both shared one last laugh before she disappeared into the grand halls of our hearth. I followed suit and began my trek to the combat wing. Our monastery was essentially a large, rectangular building with an enormous outdoor space in the center. In the middle of that space was the main prayer hall, which I crossed on my way to the training room on the other side of the structure.

The Monastery was beautiful, but it was the only thing that I had seen for the last ten years. The northern side of the building, opposite of the entrance, was home to living quarters that were filled with all manners of comforts and conveniences. There was one thing that I had grown accustomed to but still hated immensely; the cold. We were located in the far north, away from the petty conflicts of the human world. When I was younger and lived in a village with a hospitable climate I learned of many things that plagued the lands of men but were nonexistent in the far north. War, the Curse of the Undead, and the Abyss were all recurring problems that stained our world.

I know you are probably lost, so let me elaborate further. As far as I knew the kingdom of Carthus had been at war longer than I have been out of my mother' womb. At war with whom, you may ask? Everyone. The damned kingdom was trying to conquer the world. As for the Curse of the Undead, it is a phenomenon that we humans have learned to live with. What's so special about an Undead? Well, they can't die. Put one down and they'll simply be reborn from one of the many sacred bonfires scattered throughout the land that their kind is attached to. Trust me, people have tried destroying or containing the bonfires but that never works.

You may be poised to ask me why people fear the undead if humanity has grown to accept them as part of society. Well, imagine what would happen to someone if they knew that they couldn't die. It's an insanely powerful gift that is abused time and time again. On the contrary an undead can only die so many times before they completely break. They are technically human after all. This state is called hollowing, and once an undead is hollowed they are exiled. This aspect highlights why this is seen as more of a curse rather than a gift. As I once read from a book: "Not every undead is hollow, but every hollow was once undead."

Last but not least our third contender for things that make the world a horrible place to live in: The Abyss. No one knows where it came from or what it wants but we all know that it is real. There was once a city of hollows (all those exiled undead have to go somewhere, right?) called Londor that was consumed by the Abyss. Some say that the hollows wanted it that way, others say that they resisted. I tend to believe that both cases were probably true.

There is also a legend of a knight of wolf's blood who was able to walk through the Abyss. The knight was said to combat the darkness wherever it arose until it finally consumed him. At the very least, tales state that he was able to defeat the beast dubbed "Manus" and stop the dark from corrupting the world completely.

And here I was, a pyromancer in the Way of the White who could definitely use his power to help the world but instead chose to live a content life in a monastery away from all of mankind's problems. The way I see things is simple: if we took care of all of our problems today we would just have more tomorrow. If you couldn't tell I wasn't too happy with the Council's decision to send me off on what I believed was a suicide mission to find "The Flame", whatever that was. It was a good thing that I arrived at the training room because I needed to let my anger out.

The training room wasn't anything special. It wasn't that big, only had two training manikins, a small window, and a water-well accompanied by some old buckets in the corner of the room. As my power grew changes needed to be made to the room. One of the wooden dummies was replaced with a metallic doll because I had incinerated the previous one and the well was an addition that Petra recommended around four years ago when I accidentally set the entire room on fire.

I willed my pyromancy flame to life, holding it in the palm of my hand. From what I'd learned, magic and miracles took focus and concentration. Pyromancy wasn't like either of the two at all, it was a simple extension of oneself. It was as easy for me to throw a fireball as it was to run or jump. I simply looked at my metallic target and extended my arm backwards. I could feel the heat of my spell coming to life, the sphere of flame forming in my hand. Without looking away from the target I lobbed the fire forward, striking it in the center of its chest.

A fine shot to start but I knew I could do better. Although I was tutored by my old master for two years I was very young so unfortunately I could only recall a total of three lessons. Lesson one, control your emotions. If one loses their cool they could easily blow a village up. Likewise, if a pyromancer channels the right emotion for the right spell they could do some pretty amazing things. Lesson two, never write anything down. This tradition was born of the Great Swamp, the home of our sacred art. Tutor sessions are held between master and student, strengthening the bond between the two leading to increased power. Lastly, we have lesson three: fireball. During my tutelage I learned one technique. But I've used the simple maneuver thousands of times and in my humble opinion I believe I've perfected the art.

I went to channel another blast but my short session was interrupted. I felt a strong presence eyeing me, and turned towards the entrance of the room. The source of power came from a scrawny man with long, pale hair, and equally deathly-white skin. His most defining feature was the blackest pair of eyes I had ever seen in my life. His attire mimicked my own but with the addition of a cane which he was leaning on.

"Sorry to disturb you, please carry on as if I'm not even here." he commanded and waved me on.

First of all, what was with people suddenly appearing in doorways today? Second of all, I didn't like this guy's tone, nor his attitude. He came off as pompous, as if he was in charge. Not to mention I'd never seen him before, he was a complete stranger. As a show of machismo I turned to the dummy and mimicked my own previous motions. This time when the fireball left my hand it immediately expanded into an inferno. The spell completely charred the floor, swallowed the wooden target, and left metal foe with a radiating glow. What was most impressive was the after effect of the spell. My control was so potent that I was able to extinguish the flame in a way that it wouldn't start a continuous fire.

"I'm leaving tomorrow." I replied, my mouth parting in a cruel smile. "The monks can consider this as my farewell present."

His eyebrows lifted. "Tomorrow? Perhaps we can travel together. I could use a companion as gifted as you on my way to Irithyll."

It was my turn to cock an eyebrow. "Irithyll? Convenient, that's my destination as well."

He clumsily clasped his hands together, it looked flimsy because he was leaning on his cane at the same time. "Excellent, we can depart in the morning! I am called Brother Sulyvahn."

I continued to stare at him as if he was speaking in tongues. There was something off about "Sulyvhan", if that was his real name. I could definitely sense some form of power emanating from him but his form appeared so fragile. I figured that this could be a gaise or a facade. If I were to guess the true nature of this man I would pin him into a category with me; that is to say that he was an outsider within the church. In his case judging by the cane that looked an awfully alot like a sorcery catalyst, he was a magic user. Like myself his power conflicted with that of the church, which was based on holy miracles. Either way, I didn't trust him.

"I don't think so." I retorted. "I apologize if I come off as rude but I don't want to turn this journey into an escort for a cripple."

He smiled and pulled a sapphire colored ring with an almond like inscription out of his pocket. "I was told you would say something like that. Brother Ellis told me that you would be hard to convince and told me to give this to you, he swears that this ring will protect you. If you are ever in need simply put this ring on and help will find its way to you, in one form or another."

I eyed the ring with suspicion. I highly doubt that Brother Ellis ever had an item with this kind of power on him without me previously detecting it. If what he said was true then the trinket would be a valuable asset on my journey. But the Way of the White had made me stubborn and I could no longer just accept sorcery as something normal like I was able to do with pyromancy or miracles. I was taught that the magic of the soul was double sided just like the Curse of the Undead.

"Please give Brother Ellis my regards and apologies." I sighed. "I won't do it, Sulyvahn. It's just too risky."

He frowned at me. "Oh. That's a shame. I will just wait for the monastery to send a supply caravan to Irithyll and travel with them."

"Indeed." I whispered, whilst walking past him and striding towards the dormitory.

I could feel those black eyes looking at me as I crept away.

As nightfall set in I was given further instructions. I was told to wear my uniform, a simple quilted outfit with the added benefit of a breastplate and helmet, so that people could recognize that I was a church knight. Additionally I would be given a white cape that I was to display at all times to facilitate the process of getting things for free. The Way of the White wasn't dumb, the church knew that people provided for its champions all throughout the land. I was also provided with twinkling titanite shards, visually appealing and useful gems that I could use in a pinch because they were valued highly in every kingdom.

The council knew of my decision to journey to Irithyll and organized a sermon in my honor. I was thankful for the prayers of my brothers and sisters. I may not partake in my monastery's rituals, but that doesn't mean that I don't believe in their power. I've read all about champions who were blessed by the power of miracles and went on to overcome all sorts of obstacles.

This of course led me to think about the ring offered to me by Sulyvahn. I could still sense his lingering presence nearby, perhaps he was in one of the guest quarters. I felt guilty not accepting his accord, but part of me knew that I would feel even worse if something bad were to happen to him during our journey.

I distracted myself by packing some personal goods for the estimated two day trip. While organizing my things I heard the sound of someone collapse outside of my door, followed by a patterned tone of faint scratching. Without thought I quickly checked out the noise, making sure to summon my ember and channel a spell as I threw the door open.

Sulyvahn lay on the floor, his cane to his side. He was struggling to rise as he quietly muttered "It has… it has-"

"Speak, Sulyvahn." I crouched down, assisting him to his feet. I dragged him into my room and set him on the bed, he seemed too weak to do anything else.

He grabbed my wrist. "One of the Sisters, in the courtyard."

The man fainted as my eyes bulged in surprise. The one night that I had chosen to rest instead of stand watch was the night that someone decided to sneak into the monastery. Holy mother of Gwyn. I flew out of my room but suddenly stopped myself in my tracks. I was literally naked. After running back into my quarters and throwing my uniform on I turned towards the exit once again. I caught a glimpse of the brilliant cloak given to me by my brothers and sisters and pinned it on as I marched into the night.

My pyromancy flame glowed with anticipation and the stars illuminated the snow that powdered the monastery. As was protocol the front gate was shut and the invader wasn't going to escape. The other guardsmen weren't in sight which meant that they were all in the main ritual hall guarding everyone else. I had to do this alone.

There weren't any hiding places in the courtyard during a lockdown. All of the outer doors of the monastery were made of steel to provide extra heat insulation for every wing and all of them happened to be shut. The main building in the center of the complex was made of fortified stone and blessed titanite ingots. I heard the scream of a woman behind me, and rapidly faced the eastern corner of the courtyard.

A cornered Sister Petra sat curled atop a glistening patch of ice. Facing her was a Boreal Outrider Knight of Irithyll, but this one was unique. It was deformed and twisted. Its arms and legs were extended as if the bones within them had doubled in length. It bore claws where hands and feet used to be. The thing wore armor typical to that of an Outrider Knight, but it was obvious that the unnatural growth it experienced had occurred while the armor was equipped. Patches of flesh were visible where silver scale male should have been. The most disturbing thing about the knight was that it was positioned on all fours, its icy sword being carelessly tossed around in front of it as it prowled towards Petra.

If the damned thing wanted to act like a beast, I would treat it like one.

"Hey!" I yelled.

It slowly shifted towards me, and I let my natural instincts kick in. Looking back, I probably could have just thrown a powerful spell at the knight and simply ended the confrontation right there. But then again, that may have incinerated Petra. Instead I opted to throw my arms outward and let loose a frightening, barely human roar. When I said natural instincts I meant it.

The results were in my favor. The beast shrieked a deathly sound into the night and charged towards me. I powered up a flame orb but waited for it to approach. I think that it sensed my power because it began to run in a confusing pattern. It dashed diagonally with frightening speed, hitting the thing with a spell would be near impossible. It eventually leapt towards me with its sword extended.

I rolled forward, right under the knight as it slammed into the ground behind me. I spun around at the same time as it did and lobbed my readied flame at its torso. Unfortunately its blade clipped my head and we were both sent spiraling away from each other. My helmet had absorbed the blow, but the enchanted blade spread frost across my visor. I was given a choice, open the armet or fight blind. I went with the former.

Jumping to my feet I hastily located the intruder once more. It was still recovering from my attack, pieces of its charred armor falling to the ground as it angrily pounded the floor. My eyebrows lowered questionably. Whatever this thing was it was hard to believe that it was once a knight. Before it realized that I was standing I took the initiative. I started to unleash flames, some of the spells aimed towards the beast and some positioned around it. As I predicted the smaller spheres aimed around the knight collided with it as it dodged the larger ones. I had it right where I wanted it.

I circled around the knight to confuse it. In reality, this was almost exactly like hunting a bear or a wolf. The Outrider Knight had completely devolved into a mindless beast, or so I thought. It hurled itself forward, prompting me to defensively dodge to the side. I chuckled because it wasn't really anywhere near me and it was so easy to avoid. Perhaps I had blinded it.

It wasn't until I saw it bolting towards Petra that I realized that I had been played. I cursed under my breath and a grand fire orb appeared in my hand. The size of the thing was so large that it sucked the air from the wind and consumed was little light there was around me. I saw the knight glimpse back rapidly right before I unleashed the most powerful spell I've ever seen.

The explosion was massive. I had to cover my eyes with my arms due to all of the light and heat released. I still tried to get a good glimpse of the outrider and I panicked when I saw it dive out of the flame. It avoided the epicenter of the fireball. It was going to get to Petra.

I had failed Petra.

Petra was going to die.

My heart skipped a beat and fell into my stomach. I broke out into a profuse sweat and my body started to tremble. This was not a reaction from the spell that I had just delivered, this was a realization. I was going to lose the one person who actually gave a damn about me, and it was all my fault. I should have done something else to kill the knight but I couldn't because I was a one trick pony. A failure.

But that's when I saw it. A glimpse of hope shot into the darkness from behind me. It bore the form of a celestial spear heading right towards the Boreal spawn. I remember the moment clearly. Time seemed to just stop and I could see every detail: Petra's horrified face, the dried blood on the Outrider Knights blackened armor, the crystals descending from the magical spell, raining onto the snowy ground as to mimic the ice itself.

The spear collided with the beast just before it could strike Petra with its blade. In an instant it blew the entire thing's shoulder off and erased its sword arm from existence. Its neck even snapped to the left as the force from the blow sent it colliding with the ground like a ragged doll. I didn't have to look back to know who had thrown the spell. Hope carried me to my feet and I jogged to Petra, who appeared relieved.

Little did I know, I was about to learn why the world needed to me. I was about to learn the thing that had been missing from my life since I had arrived at the monastery. I was about to learn a very important lesson, and my teacher would be pain.

The Outrider Knight twitched as rose on its left arm and used its knees to crawl towards Petra. She was staring at me and didn't even notice it move. Both of our expressions turned to shock as the monster's claws penetrated her chest, all five of its fingers tearing into her like knives. I wasn't spared the sounds of her bones cracking as her ribs parted, nor the stench of fresh blood as it filled the air. My body broke down again and I collapsed to my knees as I shouted and cried.

"No!" I sobbed. " _PETRA!_ "

I saw the beast twitch one last time as it breathed its final breath, its claws were still buried in Petra's bosom. I forced my trembling self to my feet as I numbly staggered towards the two. When I reached the scene I tore the thing's fingers out of her one by one. I pulled her limp and pale body out from under the cursed knight and just collapsed.

They don't tell you how much loss will physically hurt. You spend your entire life reinforcing your will, knowing that the day will come when you will finally lose a person you love. But you can't prepare your body. I couldn't stand the sight of Petra's glazed eyes staring into nothing. My insides swirled and I vomited all over the floor. Tears clouded my vision and snot fled from my nose.

After minutes of mourning people started to vacate the main hall and join me in my misery. Everyone respected Petra. She wasn't just a mother to me, but a vigilant guardian for the entire monastery as well. I wanted to pick her body up and bury her myself but I was too weak. The cold stung me and I forced myself from the floor. All was silent.

"Give her a proper burial... Please." I croaked. "I will honor Petra's wishes and perform my duty."

It was hard for me to say, but even harder to walk away from everyone as they all stared at my back. I felt alone again, just like I did when I was taken from my village. I wondered if my "gift" was actually a curse.

I approached Sulyvahn who in turn gave me a handkerchief to wipe my face down. His face was as blank as Petra's eyes. I could tell that he understood what I was going through.

"You've proven yourself Sulyvahn." I murmured as I finished cleaning myself up.

I took a deep breath as I turned to the courtyard. Everyone had begun preparing for the funeral.

I looked the sorcerer in his dark eyes. "I, Jeigh… Champion of the Way of the White…"

I paused, an image of Petra appearing in my mind. "Will be honored to have you as my companion to help me bare this burden."


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

We only had to travel for three days on foot before we reached our destination. I didn't speak to Sulyvahn much but he sure loved speaking to me. He confessed that he was a sorcerer who felt like he didn't quite belong in the Way of the White. It was agreed that stigmas against anyone shouldn't be tolerated in the order. If the individual was willing to use their skills for the greater good, it shouldn't matter if they chose to throw rocks, fire, or super evil forbidden darkness from their hands. Right?

I twiddled my recently acquired sapphire ring around my fingers as we walked across a long, elegant bridge. I decided to make the ring my memento of Petra since I didn't have anything else to remind me of her. Sulyvahn was telling me about all of the customs and courtesies that were expected of Irithyll's people and visitors. I nodded my head, ignoring every word he said.

When I entered the Boreal Valley the first thing I noticed wasn't Irithyll's unique architecture nor the buildings that seemed to reach the sky itself, it was the temperature. The valley felt significantly warmer than the nameless monastery where I hailed from, but it wasn't. The body simply feels temperate, perhaps due to some kind of enchantment. Even the snow was different; powdery and plentiful. The opposite of the icy pebbles that I was accustomed to.

"-which is why you need to be careful. Do I make myself clear?" Sulyvahn lectured as I decided to finally tune in.

Without turning to him I nodded my head. I could feel his warm smile and friendly gaze stalk my face as I admired the city. I took my mind off of the foreign temperature of the valley and scanned through all of the different kinds of people. The Irithyillians hid their pale skin under all sorts of clothes, normally covering themselves from head to toe. Their dark eyes felt out of place among the golden contours of their jewelry and the brilliant coloration of their clothes. Aside from the city's inhabitants there were also travelers of many different lands. I spotted tabards that bore the draconian symbol of Lothric and smelt the Carthus Rouge that the people of the desert were trading to veteran soldiers of the retired Undead Legion.

When we finally overcame the bridge we were greeted with an unexpected kindness in one of the town's many plazas. I couldn't help but notice the people's fanatical love for Sulyvahn. But then again he was a very charismatic person. With a wave of his hand the crowd cleared and two knights covered from head to toe in frigid looking plate mail approached us. The armor was identical to that of the outrider knight's, without the deformities that were present on the monastery's assailant.

"An Outrider Knight of ours attacked this holy man's monastery." Sulyvahn spoke in a commanding tone. "Find the deserter in our annals and delete him. We will dishonor his name."

Before we departed from the monastery we inspected the Outrider Knight's corpse to see if we could find any clues as to why it attacked us. Sulyvahn found a black ring around one of creature's fingers and deduced that it was the source of the man's corruption.

The sorcerer pulled the ring out of his pocket and admired it for a moment. I sensed a dark power emanating from the small artifact, but I was unfamiliar with its origin. Before I could speculate my thoughts were interrupted by the departure of one of the knights who left to do his master's bidding.

Sulyvahn's eyes widened as if he had an epiphany. "Jeigh, go to the library. You will find ample research for your quest. I must take this to the city's cathedral immediately."

He gestured towards the remaining guard, who turned and nodded to me. I got the gist of what was going on and turned to Sulyvahn before I was escorted to the library. I was a surprised by how well he treated me when I had been so cruel a couple of days earlier.

"Thanks Sulyvahn… and I apologize for doubting you." I stated as I slid the sapphire ring onto my finger and showed it to him.

He gave me a wink. "No need to apologize, I would have met the offer with equal skepticism."

Without saying a word the guard led me through the brick laden streets of the quiet city. I couldn't help but run my hand along the protruding stone designs that littered almost every building, which were all bathed in the light of the crescent moon. The lack of sun wasn't uncommon this far north, in fact we only got a month's worth of sun a year back at the monastery. Lamps with arcane candles illuminated the surrounding arched infrastructure ensuring that it one would never lose vision during a blizzard.

We eventually got to the library after navigating through the urban city. We walked for so long that my feet began to hurt, though that could have been because of the stone floor that I wasn't accustomed to. The knight parked himself in front of the building for a couple of moments before suddenly departing. I found the behavior of these sentries to be extremely odd, it was as if they were golems awaiting their master's command. A smile found its way to my lips as I scoffed at the ludicrous idea.

The shelves inside were very well organized. Books were separated into different categories and further divided alphabetically. Unfortunately the hall beyond the library's common room wasn't wide at all, in fact its width only supported the shoulder width of two grown men. Fortunately what the building lacked in width it made up for in its length. The hall was so long that I couldn't even see the end.

I put all of my speculation about the dark ring and the outrider knights aside as I dove into the endless trove of knowledge. Hours passed without me even realizing, and before long I was the only customer in the library. The head librarian trusted that I wouldn't steal anything thanks to my holy attire and left me alone to browse freely. But then I found the tale of Solaire of Astora I immediately became addicted to it and stuffed it into my pack, betraying the librarian's trust.

Another book that garnered my attention simply had an inscription of an orange flame on its leather cover. I found it peculiar that this book was also locked. I swiveled my head to the left and right looking for any stragglers before I started to try and pry it open.

"I'm here alone." I said out loud. "Nothing to worry about."

"What are you doing?" A voice ambushed me from behind.

I turned around and flinched at the sight of a witch. Indeed, a witch. Raven black hair, pale skin, dark eyes, and the stereotypical witch garb. Fortunately her face didn't match the description of any of the ones I'd read about in stories. It was thin, wart-free, and attractive. I took a step back and she seemed to lean forward, her curious eyes still locked onto mine. We both paused for a moment.

"Uh… I was just going home, miss." I mumbled. "I'll be lea-"

"Liar." She squinted at me. "You're a herald. Why are you here?"

She was very analytical, whoever she was. I felt like she was reading me like an open book, which was fairly ironic considering the circumstances. I tried to reach out and sense her power, but that turned out to be a huge mistake. I felt like something was pulling my soul out of my body. One moment I was in the library and the next everything was gone. I mean everything. I looked down to see what I was standing on, but it turns out I was standing on nothing. My body was visible, which was odd considering everything else was pitch black.

It didn't take too long for the feelings, thoughts, and emotions to find me. I was lonely and sad. It felt as if my heart had been ripped out of my chest. It hurt, and when the pain reached its climax my new reality found it appropriate to torture me with voices. I heard whispers, laughing, and yelling all at once. I thought about screaming but my pride wouldn't let me. I curled into a ball, shut my eyes, and covered my ears.

I don't know how long I was incapacitated, but eventually I came to my senses. The library was still void of life with the exception of the witch and me, but a couple of things were different. Both of us were on our knees, basically collapsed over each other in a very close embrace.

"You wet yourself." She whispered.

I sighed. "Yup, looks like I did. Why are we hugging?"

"Shhhhh." she replied. "Your soul is warm."

"I'm pretty sure that's just the piss." I answered.

Not only did this stranger make me urinate myself, but she was also apparently eating my soul. Half of me wanted to push her away and find a new pair of pants. The other half actually enjoyed this. Though trivial to most, this was a big deal for me as this was the first time that I had ever been hugged. The Way of the White demonstrated their love through tough discipline, I never knew my father, and my mother was never around when I lived with her. Even Petra chose other ways to show her affection like telling stories or getting me extra food from the kitchens.

I broke the awkward silence that resulted after my joke. "What happened just now?"

"You found the Abyss." she finally loosened her grip so I lifted her off of me.

Yup, that's all I needed to hear to be done with this conversation. I nodded my head and placed the locked book into my pack. Then I adjusted my soiled pants a little before beginning a brisk walk towards the entrance. This was truly the scariest thing I'd ever experienced, and definitely much more fear inducing than combat. Before I exited I faced the book hall one last time. The woman was still there, but something had changed. She was smiling.

After that experience I made my way to a nearby inn where I was able to stay in a room for free. A couple of patrons turned their heads as I passed by. I figured it was because of two things: my attire and the faint scent of piss. When I got to the room I was offered a well deserved sense of solace. As I closed the door I couldn't help but being thankful for my solitude, as this was the first time in days that I wasn't surrounded by people.

The room wasn't much but it was better than nothing. It consisted of a desk next to a window, a chair, and a bed. I propped open the window and then fetched a small ritual cup, some incense sticks, and a knife from my sack. I stabbed the blade into the wall, stripped down, hung my pants onto the hilt, and lit the sticks under the trousers. The smoke would serve two purposes: relaxation and the alleviation of the lingering odor that plagued my attire.

After reading more about Solaire's adventures I decided that it was time for work and fetched the locked book. I conjured my pyromancy flame right above the tip of my index finger and focused my willpower. I was trying to create a very small but scolding flame to heat the lock and the technique had to be precise. I crafted the small blade of flame and began to cut into the metal. It didn't produce any sparks, which means I wasn't making any progress.

The universe thought it would be an appropriate idea to interrupt me. My door flew open and a knight in ridiculous looking armor let himself in. This interrupted my focus and I lost control of the technique, resulting in a sizable explosion. I was able to contain the flame before it did any serious damage to the room or the knight. I blushed as I realized that once again, I had accidentally revealed my nude body to another man.

"Well." He confidently spoke. "I must have the wrong room. I, Siegward of Catarina, offer my sincerest apologies."

I covered myself with the book and yelled at the stranger. "First of all, you look like a giant onion! I was in the middle of very important work and because of you the book is rui-"

I realized what I was just about to say and instead looked at the book. It not only wasn't a pile of ash, but its inscriptions were glowing. It produced the sound of a spinning gear which came to a halt. The tome clicked and the lock opened.

"Open… the book is open?" I was dumbfounded. "Thank you?"

Siegward nodded. "You're welcome! If you need me I will be in the room next to your's!"

I opened the book and was met with instant disappointment. I couldn't read the language that it was written in. I debated going back to the library to try to see if I could decipher it, but then I remembered that the _creep_ may have still been there. I remembered that earlier I had put on the ring gifted to me by Sulyvahn and I quickly took it off and put it on the desk. I stared at the thing in disbelief. Did it actually call others to aide me?

I decided to test it out with a clever plan.

A while later I was fully dressed and in the bar enjoying a free drink. It had gotten late and only a few men were left in the tavern. It was time to put my plan into action. I fished the ring out of my pack, slid it on, and waited. In no time I sensed the ring work its magic as the heavy steps of the knight of Catarina approached me. It worked. The damned ring wasn't a fake after all.

"You were thirsty as well? Let me buy you a drink!" he expressed, sitting in the stool next to me.

I smiled at him. "No need, Sir Siegward. Being a herald of The Way of the White, the kind bartender has agreed to supply my drinks free of charge. I'm Jeigh, by the way."

We briefly shook hands as he leaned closer to me. "A herald? Are you on a quest to link the fire, then? You know, the last time the fire was linked it took an entire legion of undead. I believe they were known as the Abyss Watchers."

I didn't know anything about the Watchers, save for the fact that they would level a city at the slightest sign of Abyssal corruption. This explained my the monster that I ran into earlier was allowed to operate freely in Irithyll, and why the city was still in one piece. I fully anticipated Siegward's reaction, as the linking of the fire was the primary mission for many other heralds and knights sent forth by the order. But there were a couple of differences between them and me, the primary eliminating factor being that I wasn't undead. A normal human didn't have the ability to sacrifice themselves to the First Flame and "rekindle the world." This implied that the prophecy given to me was different.

"No, at least I don't think so." I shook my head and slid the book towards him. "I seek a different flame, and maybe you can help me."

He touched the inscription on the cover and nodded. "I believe I know what you are looking for, friend. Legends speak of a profaned capital below Irithyll with ancient inhabitants and power."

I stroked my chin. "Yes, that sounds like it might be correct. But I wouldn't even know where to begin my search."

Siegward took my drink and poured the rest of it into the thin visor of his helmet. I was extremely impressed that he didn't make a mess. "Do not worry, Jeigh. Meet me by the base of the bridge in one hour. This will be my repentance for gazing upon your naked body. I shall lead you to the capital."

The bald bartender just huffed behind his beard while he stared at us.

"It's not what you think." I intervened.

"Whatever." He gruffed.

I reached for my pack, which was in the stool to my left but I almost lost my balance. I turned to see what was wrong and encountered empty stool. I cursed under my breath and spun towards the entrance of the tavern just in time to see a kid in ragged clothes leaving with my things.

"Protect the book, I'll meet up with you later!" I yelled as I ran for the door.

The streets were empty and I was able to follow the kid's small shoe prints in the snow. They led to a dark alley where not one, but three children were digging through my belongings. I illuminated the area with my ember and called to them.

"Return my things or I will incinerate you." I bluffed in my knightliest voice.

I channeled my soul into the flame and let it run wild. The ember expanded and enveloped my hand before a long fiery tail freely rose into the air. The flame licked the snow off a nearby brick wall as it chaotically flailed to and fro. Two of the three children were visibly shaken, but one of them rose to his feet and puffed his chest out. He looked to be on the verge of adolescence and appeared quite strong for his age.

"Liar." He called out. "You're a holy man. You wouldn't kill kids like us!"

I lowered the visor of my helmet so that the kids couldn't see my face. I cursed when I was behind my mask, my bluff had been called out two times in one day. First by the witch and now by this kid. Maybe I needed to just stop lying. I didn't let the midget deter me, I dragged the flame tail back into my hand and formed a very bright sphere. I eyed the fireball and purposely began to allow cinders to escape from the spell, a desperate attempt to intimidate the thieves.

"We're starving, and your twinkling titanite is going to get us enough money to feed us for the rest of our lives!" he yelled.

"Stealing from me is like stealing from the church." I arched my arm behind me as if I was going to throw the spell. "It will not be tolerated."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. This kid had bigger balls than Gwyn did during the Age of the Ancients. I tried to search for any sign of weakness or fear in his face but I didn't find what I was looking for. All I found was stalwart resolve. But then I realized that I didn't have to frighten the alpha of the pack. I threw the fireball above the group of thieves and detonated it. I purposely crafted the explosion to be large but weak, it definitely wasn't strong enough to burn flesh. The flames simply teased the bodies of the children and singed their clothes.

The child in the middle screamed. "Do something Horace!"

I readied another fireball. "I won't miss this time."

"Mel!" Horace hollered.

The girl behind Horace pulled out a small wand and pointed it right at me. She started to mutter an incantation, but I noticed that it was slow and choppy. Her hands were also shaking so much that the spell would have probably missed me. To be honest I was more worried that she would mess the spell up and hurt herself. The wand started to glow blue at its tip so I acted fast. I willed my ember away and yelled as loud as I could. Sure enough, she flinched and the spell dissipated.

"Anri take the titanite and run!" Horace commanded.

But Anri didn't run. The child picked up the sack and began to walk it over to me. Horace's jaw dropped and Mel collapsed to her knees and started crying. No one spoke a word as the kid returned my belongings. I dropped down to one knee and lifted my mask so that I could look the child in their eyes. To be honest I couldn't tell if the Anri was a boy or a girl.

"We're sorry, Mister." Anri handed me my things. "We're just really hungry."

I frowned and imagined how my life was before the order found me. "Let me buy you guys some food back at the tavern."

Horace barked at me. "Why would you help us? You're going to turn us into the guards!"

I slung the pack around my shoulder and walked away. "Suit yourself. I'm going to go eat."

I heard two pairs of feet follow me into the tavern. The common room was completely empty with the exception of the bartender who was cleaning the place up. I approached him with Anri and Mel in tow, set my pack down, and pulled out one twinkling titanite gem. I offered it to the man.

"Feed these kids and take this as your payment." I commanded.

The man nodded and took the gem. He went to lock the front doors of the tavern and Horace walked in. The innkeeper began to shoo the boy away but I yelled across the room. "Him too."

After the food was prepared we all sat at a table while the innkeeper added two more logs into the chimney before proceeding to leave. The children dined on steaks, potatoes, and veggies. I simply watched them, it felt nice being the good guy. But one random question still lingered on my mind.

"Anri…" I wondered out loud. "Are you a boy or a girl?"

Anri began to speak but Horace interrupted. "That's a dumb question, isn't it obvious?"

I shrugged my shoulders. I guess I just wasn't meant to know.

Siegward exited his room and strolled down the stairs to the bar. He was holding the book, had a spiked shield latched onto his back, and rested the largest sword I'd ever seen on his shoulder. He nodded to me before exiting the tavern and disappearing into the night. I followed him to the entrance and ensured that the doors were shut and locked again. I attempted to return to the table but was interrupted by a knock at the entrance.

"Tavern's closed." I hollered.

A man answered back, his voice muffled by the door. "I believe you have my children in there, sir. Please return them."

I looked at all of the children and they all shook their heads.

"Don't let him in." Anri said.

I nodded. "Go up the stairs. My room is the first on the left."

"I grow tired of waiting." the voice outside said.

The children fled as the door blew open. Debris forced its way into the tavern and the fire in the chimney extinguished itself. The room began to get cold very fast, as if the enchantment surrounding the city didn't apply to me anymore.

"He who would steal from the almighty Aldrich come forth and face me. We shall discuss the terms of your surrender." the voice challenged.

I closed my armet as I turned towards the exit, willing my pyromancy flame to life. It tickled the air with anticipation. My fiery art is emotion, and right now I felt like I needed to kick this guy's ass because some kids were more afraid of him than they were of me. I strode up to the exit only to be met with a slow moving orb of magic. In fact, it was so slow that I decided to get a better look at the sorcery. The sphere consisted of what looked like small black sprites that emanated an azure glow.

I chuckled. The spell had enough kick to devour a door, but you'd never be able to hit a moving target with it. I jogged backwards into the bar and moved to the side so the spell could pass through. The only problem was that the thing _turned_. The spell began to seek me and only flew faster as it got closer. I figured that I wasn't going to take my chances with dodging and I quickly threw a nearby stool at the thing. The spell erupted and the seat shattered, sending wooden fragments flying across the tavern.

I couldn't avoid the explosion and I was impaled in my left shoulder by one of the splinters. I pulled the damned thing out of me, thanking Gwyn that it wasn't too long. There wasn't much bleeding but if the wound didn't get cleaned it would become infected. I stuffed part of my cloak into my mouth and bit down on it before I held my flame up to the gash. I let out a muffled groan as I cauterized myself.

I was tricked. The only discussion this bastard wanted to have with me was with my corpse. I wasn't going to walk outside expecting diplomacy again. I readied a spell in my hand and marched forth. Surprisingly another trap wasn't waiting for me and I faced my attacker.

Aldrich had curly, dark hair that hung off the side of his head perfectly. His face was lean and sharp, his suit made of the most expensive silk. He seemed like an entitled nobleman, in every sense. We weren't alone. A couple of pedestrians were randomly scattered around us, maintaining their distance. If they wanted a show, I'd give them one.

"A Herald?" He scoffed in disbelief. "Of the Way of The White?"

I nodded, my hand still dripping with flame. "Something doesn't smell right between you and those kids."

The man held his chin up. "Those kids are precious to me. I know people in high places, even the holy deacons of the Cathedral of the Deep. I can have you excommunicated."

I didn't take being threatened lightly, but if he _did_ know the deacons then my position in the church may have actually been on the line. But even though the Cathedral of the Deep was our holy order's capital it had been out of contact with the rest of us for quite a while now. There were rumors that the Deep, the evil force that the bastion was built to protect the world against, had been set free. The rare consistency of Aldrich's spells seemed to confirm my suspicions, so I chose my next words with confidence.

"Fuck the deacons." I spat. I heard a couple of gasps from the crowd of onlookers.

Aldrich's lips curled into a maniacal smile. "Violence, then. Isn't that barbaric for a cleric such as yourself?"

"I'm not a cleric." I whispered as I threw the fireball.

At first I wasn't sure if my eyes were deceiving me or if my opponent actually did something. Light seemed to distort and bend in front of Aldrich, it actually hurt my eyes to look at what was happening. Before I realized that my spell had been reflected and was coming back towards me it was almost too late. I detonated the fireball in a similar manner to how I had done with the children. The flames produced a wide spread, dispersing the heat and barely singing my clothes.

Whatever he did it was gone and in its place all I could see was that stupid smile. I began to channel another technique but then stopped. Something was wrong. I looked around and didn't see anyone in the streets, not a single soul. I glanced behind me and saw why. I spotted a Black Hand of the royal family of Lothric. His presence inspired confidence, his chest out and hands resting on one of his dual blades. I was able to recognize him because… well, everyone knew about the Black Hands. Their dark coated uniforms, wide brimmed hats, and dual wielding fighting styles were renowned throughout all of the lands. Assassination, massacre, political threats; they did it all. Did I mention that there were only three of them? This particular Hand didn't look too happy, either. I crept to the side so that I could face both of the men.

"Yall are makin' lots of noise out here." the Hand turned his head, chewed on something, then spat. "Woke me up."

Aldrich wasn't smiling anymore. I didn't know whether to be happy that the smirk was wiped off his face or if I should have been worried for my life. I really didn't feel like being decapitated so I decided not to make any sudden movements or channel any spells.

"This is interesting indeed…" proclaimed Aldrich. "What's a Black Hand doing this far north?"

The man spat onto the floor again. "None of your business, rich boy."

I kept my mouth shut until the Hand look directly at me. "And you?" he muttered.

I cleared my throat. "Oh you know, saving the world." I joked.

"Heh." he half-smiled and tipped his hat. "I'm Gotthard, pleased to make your acquaintance. Damned shame I have to kill you."

"What?" I exclaimed. "What did I ever do you to?"

"Like I said." he sniffed. "Woke me up."

The sorcerer continued to exchange glares between the Hand and me. A swarm of those dark blue sprites swarmed both of his hands and that damned smile returned to his face, this time accompanied by a pair of crazy eyes. I tapped into my ember and a great flame expanded into my hand. The final contender simply crossed his arms and wrapped his hands around the hilts of his swords.

The wind blew a flurry of snow down the street as I held my breath. None of us moved, I was certain that we were all waiting for someone else to make the first play. The air eventually stilled and we all acted at the exact same time. Two throwing knives appeared in Gotthard's hands and he threw them at me before sprinting towards Aldrich. I spun around, dodging the attack while I unleashed my spell at the both of them. The sorcerer countered us both my directing his attack at the incoming fireball. The result was an explosion with enough force to send us all flying.

I clumsily crash landed on my side, sending snow everywhere as I slid on my cape. Gotthard landed on both legs with finesse before launching himself into the air and tumbling towards me. Aldrich's back slammed into a lamp post before he collapsed to his hands and knees. While he was in the air the Hand skillfully threw a knife at the sorcerer's exposed neck before he attempted to slash his swords at mine. I held up my ember and allowed it to combust with great strength, throwing the airborne man to the side and sending him into a violent roll down the street.

Aldrich unwittingly recoiled his head and made a choking noise as the knife collided with his shoulder. Blood spurted out of the wound but his focus wasn't interrupted. He _vomited_ a floating river of scarlet insects that hovered towards Gotthard and I. I turned my head in disgust as I torched the sorcerer's spell with one of my own. I turned to see how the Hand would avoid the attack but he was still on the floor. I cursed under my breath. If I threw one of my fireballs the spell wouldn't reach Gotthard in time without completely incinerating him.

I had to be creative. I mirrored the same emotions I felt when the children had stolen my things and shaped a sizable ember with a long tail. I held my hand out and slowly rotated my arm, observing as the flame shaped itself into a thick, molten whip. Aldrich noticed what I was trying to do and launched two orbs from his hands, one heading towards me and the other to Gotthard.

The whip began to recoil, my focus was breaking because of the new threat. I sighed and decided to be the good guy again. My resolve bolstered as I chose to sacrifice myself and save Gotthard. My spell swirled towards the Hand faster than ever, surrounded the dark sphere heading towards him, and then directed the resulting reaction towards the swarm of insects. All of the threats facing the Hand had been consumed, and I expected Aldrich's spell to devour me at any moment.

" _Enough_!" resounded a loud, familiar voice.

I was slammed back onto the ground by a sudden blast and I began to lose consciousness. My head was facing towards where the Hand was. My vision began to fade but my eyes didn't deceive me.

Gotthard was gone.


	4. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

When I woke up I couldn't help but notice that my surroundings had grown darker, colder, and much more moist. The lightly snow powdered streets that I had previously been acquainted with were replaced with hard, slippery cobblestone. The air reeked of death and feces, it was so bad that I could even taste it. I had a pretty good idea of where I was and the situation almost seemed _too_ convenient for my tastes. Irithyll had taken me prisoner.

"The savage cleric awakens."

I sighed at the sound of _his_ voice. This really couldn't get any worse. I was sharing a jail cell with the biggest asshole in all the land. I tried to move my arms so I could get off of the floor and strangle him, ending this immediately, but it was of no use. I slowly came to realize that my arms were not only bound behind me, but that they were encased in casted steel sleeves. I strained my weak body and rose to my feet before turning to Aldrich. He didn't have the same restraints I had and apparently he wasn't naked like I was.

I couldn't help but think about Siegward, Anri, Horace, and Mel. Hell, I even took a few moments to recall that damned witch. I wondered who my savior was and if my current situation even counted as being "saved". Then I remembered Gotthard.

"Where's Gotthard?" I asked before pacing to the barred entrance of our cramped cell. There weren't any jailers in sight. "And why in the world are _you_ not restrained?"

"You incinerated him." Aldrich smiled. "And I'm not restrained because I know the warden."

"Of course you do." I spat back

By the time I turned around to face him it was already too late, he'd ambushed me. I crashed onto the ground and tried to rise but I was kicked in the stomach. The air rushed out of my lungs and I was incapacitated. Aldrich flipped me onto my back and then decided it would be fitting to lock my torso under his crotch. I couldn't move.

That's when things got weird.

"I wonder how your flesh would taste." he said right before he ran his tongue up my cheek. He lowered his mouth to my ear and whispered. "It's delicious."

A chill ran up my spine and I began to panick. I started to struggle but he wrapped his arms around my body. A fowl noise escaped from his throat, the bastard was laughing. His teeth surrounded my left earlobe and he playfully bit down. I couldn't believe this was actually happening to me. I broke out into a cold sweat and my body began to freeze up. Initially I believed this to be Aldrich's magic, but then I realized that I'd felt like this before.

When Sister Petra died I wasn't simply depressed or enraged, I was also afraid. When the witch had shown me the dark I had felt not only fear, but profound loneliness and despair. Now fear had grasped my soul yet again and this time it was accompanied by an overbearing sensation of powerlessness.

His teeth surrounded my earlobe and started to slowly bite down. I tried to pull away from his demented mouth but he closed and then locked his jaw. I started to scream as he gnawed on my flesh and shook his head like a rabid dog. A flash of adrenaline allowed me to thrust him off of my body as I rose to my feet and put space between us. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a line of blood run down my torso, but my gaze was fixated on the maniac's mouth.

The sorcerer slowly rose, never turning away from me as he chewed on my flesh and savored the sanguine taste of my blood. My skin began to burn bright red as rage settled in. In the past I was quick to assume that Aldrich was just some spoiled rich kid, but I was severely wrong. Aldrich was a fucking monster. He eventually stopped chewing and swallowed the damned thing. Although it was such a small chunk of flesh I swear to Gwyn that I could see it go down his slimy throat. I planned to charge the sorcerer and fight fire with fire.

"Oi, what are you two lovebirds doin in der?" called a voice from behind the cell's bars.

I turned to see a man completely covered in fine black silk. His face hid behind a silver mask and his head was home to an odd, cone shaped hat. "Get me away from this maniac." I sputtered.

"Heheh." he chuckled. "I'll take ye outa der alright."

I then noticed the long iron soldering iron that the jailer was holding. Its circular tip blazed with an orange glow as if it was freshly heated and I had a feeling that some form of enchantment was to blame for this. I sighed as I realized I was stuck in between a rock and a hard place.

He set his lantern down and opened the cell door. "Get er movin!"

I crept out of the cell and flinched as the jailer slammed the metal gate closed. Aldrich grabbed onto the bars of the door and just stared at me with his stupid smile. "It was a pleasure, pyromancer. Perhaps later I can have you for dinner."

His smile somehow managed to spread even further. "Well, the rest of you anyway."

I couldn't control myself as I charged at the bars and slammed my shoulder into Aldrich's fingers. I was much faster than him and I could feel the popping of his bones as I collided with his hand. He retreated into the cell with a yelp and nurtured his hand. Turns out, the jailers weren't too fond of violence. My captor jammed his soldering iron into my back.

Surprisingly I didn't feel much pain from the attack. This was probably because of the adrenaline that was still running through my body. I also refused to let this son of a bitch get any sort of demented satisfaction from my agony. I clenched my jaw and didn't scream.

"Eh?" the man questioned. "I like da tough ones! Move it!"

He gestured towards a door that rested at the end of the hallway. As I started walking I searched for an escape route. My eyes bolted from wall to wall and door to door. The prison itself seemed to be composed of a series of long halls that surrounded a square shaped underground yard. Candlelight and lamps were strategically placed around the jail to tease its inhabitants with an insignificant amount of sight.

We approached the room's entrance and the door creaked open. The room itself was dark, but I could clearly see what was inside. It was a damned torture chamber. Three other jailers stood behind a collection of maniacal devices. A took note of all of the different kinds of blades in the room. Saws of varying shapes and sizes, scissors, and something that looked like it was specialized in chopping fingers off.

"Take da shackies off em and put em on da strecha." one of the four jailers muttered.

"Dis one's not one of dem undead me thinks." added another.

I heard a laugh. "Den he'll only feel dis once, eh?"

I saw the device that I was being led to but I wasn't afraid. The contraption was laid out on the floor like a bed and consisted of two wooden poles. I'd imagined that the thing was designed to rip a person in half. But like I said, I wasn't afraid. Aldrich had done a good job of draining me of all my fear in our previous encounter. My hatred was literally threatening to burn right through the metal surrounding my hands.

As soon as the jailer turned the key to my shackles and they fell to the floor my ember willed itself into existence with a violent explosion. My liberator evaporated into a pile of ash in an instant. The remaining men just stopped. I couldn't tell what they were feeling because of their masks but the faint aroma of piss filled the air.

"Wha yuh gon do, eh?" one of the men said. "Kill tree unarmed men? Aren't ye a cleric o somethin?"

This situation felt very familiar. It reminded me of the children and the fact that they were still somewhere out there without any sort of guidance. This thought fueled my pyromancy even further and I could feel a smirk creep across my face.

"I'm not a cleric." I quoted myself as a fireball left my fingers and obliterated the jailer.

The other two reached for any blade that they could find but it was no use. One of them burned along with a table of torture devices and the other made it two steps towards me before all of his clothes were on fire. I took one look at the rest of the room and spat in disgust before I torched it all down.

As I navigated the dark dungeon while incinerating every jailer that I encountered, I figured that the location had to be underground due to the lack of light. Another contributing factor was how ugly the construct seemed to be from the inside, it couldn't have possibly been erected within the city itself. That being said, I decided not to try to fight my way to the surface. If the Profaned Capital was underneath this hellhole then I had to fight my way further in. I passed cell after cell and contemplated letting the prisoners loose but figured that they were all imprisoned for a reason.

One of the jailers that I torched died before all of his clothes could burn up so I threw the scorched fabric over my shoulders and called it a robe. Before I found my way to the second level of the prison I passed a particular cell. I halted my jog and reached out with my senses to feel a familiar, but odd presence. Before I could figure out who was giving off the strange aura a voice called to me.

"You?" came a feminine whisper from the shadows.

"No way." I said out loud as I approached the barred door.

As luck would have it, it was the witch. I was fortunate that she called out to me and halted my concentration, I wouldn't want to experience the same craziness that I had earlier. She was alone in her cell and it was significantly smaller. Like Aldrich she was fully clothed, but unlike him she was shackled to the wall.

"We meet again." she faintly smiled.

I bit my lip and thought really hard about releasing her. I predicted that she was quite powerful and she could have definitely helped me reach my goal, but she also didn't have a soul. Not one that I was able to sense, anyway. I sighed and willed my ember into existence. When it came down to it I was a herald of the Way of the White and she was a woman in distress. Although the scenario was a little cliche I felt obligated to be the knight in shining armor, so to speak.

"That won't be necessary." She cooed. "This isn't the first time I've been imprisoned, and it won't be the last."

She opened her mouth and dark sprites the size of fingers swarmed all of the shackles in unison. It was a truly quite a disgusting sight to behold. What made it even worse was that she never broke eye contact with me. I debated the consequences of destroying her like I'd done to the jailers or the Outrider Knight. Her black magic was proof that she was a wretched servant of the Abyss, right? The metal shackles and the door to her cell were eventually devoured and she stepped out to greet me.

"I don't even know where to start." I stated, fairly shaken by the spectacle that she had performed.

"How about with your name?" she chuckled. "I am Karla."

"I'm Jeigh. A pleasure, Karla." She presented her hand to me and I kissed it. "After that fiasco that I experienced with you earlier how do I know that I could trust you?"

She gave off a sarcastic gasp. "Straight to the point, I see. We've already peered into each other's souls, our fates are intertwined."

"What?" I responded. "I don't know about you but what I experienced didn't feel like a 'soul'."

We entered a short staring contest. I didn't want to tell her about my goal but I theorized that she already had a pretty good idea about why I was in Irithyll. Karla hadn't just peered into my soul, she had practically bathed in it. She knew much more about me than I did about her and that freaked me out.

"How about this." she declared. "From this day forth I shall be your apprentice."

"What?" I blurted as equally dumbfounded as before. "That doesn't make any sense!"

She shushed me. "Isn't that how it works with you pyromancers? One master, one apprentice."

I understood what she was getting at. In the culture of the Great Swamp it is very common for a bond to form between a master and a student. This promotes a source of trust, emotion, and improvement for both parties. The bond is potent because the pyromancy master literally gives a part of himself to the student. Karla's idea was actually really good. I held my free hand to my ember and I _pulled_ at it. I'd only ever seen one person split their ember, and that person was my master. I could _feel_ a part of my soul leave me as the ember split into two.

As I handed the floating flame over to Karla I could sense her soul violently grab the ember. The fire turned crimson in color and it shaped itself into a small sphere. To be honest, I was a little surprised. I had expected her soul to reflect as some form of utter darkness. The fickle, red orb said a lot about her character and from my experience it was impossible for the pyromancy flame to lie. According to the knowledge of my master, her ember symbolized that she was precise and calculated, and that she also had a kind heart.

"Oh, that familiar warmth." she shuddered, then stared into her own ember.

I snapped my fingers and garnered her attention. "Hey, ground rules. Rule number one: control your emotions. The madder you are, the bigger your explosions are. Rule number two: no notes. Everything that I teach you stays between you and me. Got it?"

"Yes, _master_." She jokingly said as she ran her fingers across her lips. "This is turning out to be quite fun. Where to now?"

I turned my head, making sure that no one was eavesdropping. "We're looking for the Profaned Capital."

She raised her eyebrows. "Well, that's surprising. I would have assumed your path to be more righteous."

"Wait. What's wrong with the Profaned Capital?" I asked.

"Well the Profaned Flame isn't exactly good." she replied. "Though that doesn't necessarily signify that it is evil."

The Profaned Flame must have been the power that Siegward was referring to. But I couldn't help but wonder why a witch of all people knew about it. Was it forbidden? Was I being lead to a trap? I thought about the prophecy given to me and imagined all of the consequences that would follow if something bad were to happen. I couldn't even imagine what would happen to the people of Irithyll is something dark was released below the city.

"As my apprentice you share my duties. Our mission is simple: Find the flame, save our kind." I decided.

Karla shrugged. "That's very vague."

I nodded. "Yes, I know. But this 'Profaned Flame' sounds like it's worth a shot."

"Ok, I'll lead you there." She nodded. "But we're going to need some help."

"How is it that everyone else knows where this place is and I don't?" I asked.

"Well… I've been around for a long time." the witch replied. "Who else have you spoken to about your affairs?"

I wanted to lie to her but she was my apprentice. "A knight of Catarina."

She took what I said and seemed to lock it up in her mind. "Let's go find my companion."

On our way to the entrance of the dungeon we happened to pass by my old cell. Aldrich wasn't anywhere in sight, but that didn't really surprise me. The light of the moon illuminated the hall and I could hear the crackle of a nearby bonfire. Conveniently, five silent jailers stood between us and the surface. I pondered why they were just camped around the flames until fate decided to provide me with a demonstration.

A burly naked man appeared in the middle of all of the jailers. At first I didn't recognize him but after one of those assholes prodded him with their soldering iron my jaw dropped. The man screamed with the same voice of Siegward, Knight of Catarina. Either it was the knight that I had met in the tavern or a damned good impersonator.

"Karla!" I barked.

"On it." she replied.

She appeared to combine her newly obtained power with her own sorcery and created a violet hex with a magnificent misty form. The spell was quick to disappear as she pointed at the jailer who harmed Siegward. The jailer removed his soldering iron from the knight's flesh and immediately thrust it into one of his companions. All of the Irithyllians turned to the man in horror. Siegward wasted no time in taking advantage of the distraction to sprint towards us.

As he ran towards me I decided that it was my turn. All I could hear in my head while I channeled my fireball were my friend's screams and I could feel the conjuration churn with intensity. When I released it at the group of enemies it swallowed them before they even realized what was going on. If the room wasn't completely made of stone it would have instantly conflagrated.

I looked towards Karla and took a couple deep breaths. The spell had taken a lot of out me. "Good job, I've never seen anything like that before."

Her face beamed with pride. "You performed sufficiently as well."

"Jeigh is that really you?" Siegward questioned. His eyes seemed to tear up. "They'd been up to that for hours. I thought for sure I would finally go hollow… after all these years."

Before he appeared at the bonfire I had no clue that Siegward was undead. I played with the words 'all these years' in my head and glanced at Karla. Assuming that she was also undead, was it possible that these two were hundreds of years old? Do undead even age? I figured that questions like these weren't really significant enough for me to linger on for too long.

"Let me take a look at that wound, we wouldn't want you dieing again from something as embarrassing as infection." I stated.

"Don't fret." he said. "All of my things, including my estus flask, are in the armory."

I nodded and gestured for Siegward to lead the way. We didn't travel too far, in fact we simply moved into the bonfire room. We were led to a wall behind the flames, and looking outside I was even able to see Irithyll.

"Siegward." I pointed. "This is a wall."

"Hmmmmm, your inexperience is showing my friend." He chuckled and touched the wall. It vanished and revealed a room filled with all sorts of armor and weapons, it was very well organized.

Even Karla giggled at my ignorance, but I was too impressed by the prison's mystical security to come up with some smart remark. I immediately found the small sapphire ring and my symbolic armor, but as soon as I started to take my robes off I remembered to mind my manners. I decided that I should leave the room to be polite, it would have been inappropriate to strip in front of Karla. I also didn't want to embarrass Siegward. While I was putting my armor on in the cold Irithyllian night my thoughts returned to those kids. Should I have just abandoned this stupid quest to find them? Aldrich would have surely been looking for them now.

Fully clothed, I walked towards the bonfire to warm myself up. I heard Karla whispering something as I entered the room, but before I could get a clearer picture of what she was saying Siegward silenced her. I wasn't a fan of people talking behind my back, but I figured that they were just talking about the Profaned Flame. Before I could think of the subject any further Karla tossed a heavy bag and an oddly shaped blade at me. As the sack landed into my hands I suddenly remembered that I too had packed things for this journey, but they were nowhere to be found. Those bastards must have found all of my valuable gems and claimed the supplies for themselves.

"What's this?" I asked and then I admired the sword. "And _this_?"

"My companion's things." she stated. " _That_ is the Murakumo."

"Oh." I whispered.

The sword was long, fairly thick for a blade, and it was curved. It was large enough to reasonably be considered a two handed weapon, but it felt light enough to easily swing in one hand. We backtracked to a cell near the torture chamber. Karla took all of the things that she made me carry to a man in the cell. I couldn't see his face but judging by his features he was pretty far along in the hollowfication process.

When the knight left his cell he was fully adorned in all of his gear and he proudly brandished his Murakumo. The armor he wore was interesting, to say the least. It was thin and light, but still looked like a knight's classic plate mail. His visor completely covered his face and the red scarf around his neck appeared as if it was from Lothric, but in reality only the colors were similar… the damned thing was so old that it would be impossible for anyone to match its origin.

"Eh? Who are you blokes?" the man asked. "The name's Alva, it is."

"Jeigh." We shook hands. "This is Siegward of Catarina."

"Bloody hell, a knight of Catarina!" Alva exclaimed as he approached Siegward.

We sped Alva up on what was going on and he suggested rallying the other prisoners so that we could launch an offensive on the lower floors. I was visibly confused and Karla had to explain that the lower levels of the prison were well fortified because of the dangerous men that they contained.

"These people are in here for a reason." I mentioned. "We're better off going in alone. Here's the pla-"

"Master if I may." Karla interrupted me. "I propose we free the poor souls of the upper levels, as they are only either minor offenders or people like us."

Siegward verbally pondered. "Mmmmmm."

By 'people like us' she probably meant people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I sighed.

"Alright, let's free some criminals."


End file.
